Beauty and the Beast
by Enter the Extinct Age
Summary: story based on 'Beauty and the Beast' with my own twists, a D/G soon to be romance story with Ginny as Beauty and Draco as the Beast...please r/r!
1. Reflections

**A/N: **It would really mean a lot if you reviewed this for me.  I'm always looking for tips on my writing skills :).  I've been toying with this idea for awhile, and I decided to do it.  I took the liberty of changing 'the Beast's' personality for the first parts from the original version and the movie. For the town I describe, if any of you have seen "Edward Scissorhands," think that kind of town.

Onwards!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'Beauty and the Beast' or any of the Harry Potter characters.  I _do own (yay for me!) the details, context, plot changes and time slots.  So don't take them! :-P all mine…mwah ha ha ha ha…_

--

        Another day, another life.  Norfolk in summer was always a refreshing change from the dismal winter it harbored, and the entire wizarding population situated there welcomed it with open arms.  Nestled away by themselves, the wizards and witches who wished to live there openly made themselves a miniature town under a hill.  It suited them all fine; those who needed to work in the city could Apparate in whenever they pleased.

        Ginny sat on her family's house steps watching the people pass by warily.  Although she was now out of Hogwarts and thrust into the world, she always found herself back at her parent's house.  It seemed like she could never leave without feeling enormous guilt for doing so.  She looked across the street with her head on her arms and grinned when she saw Fred and George yelling spiritedly at a young wizard, who was now skulking away with his hands thrust in his pockets.  If she had to make a bet, Ginny would wager that he had just tried to shoplift a prank or two…again.  "That Ben Finnegan is nothing but trouble," she muttered fondly, watching the boy walk away.  The dirt road created clouds of protest behind him, reminding Ginny of the intense dislike she had for this old fashioned town; Oldham really was a fitting name for it. 

        All of a sudden the front door behind her burst open, making Ginny fall off the step in surprise.  "Dad?"

        "This is it Gin!" Arthur yelled excitedly.  "I've been invited to Warlocks International!  The likes of Dumbledore will be there!" He beamed happily down at her shocked face.  Grinning like mad, Ginny leapt up and enveloped her frail father in a huge hug.

        "That's fantastic Dad!" Ginny replied enthusiastically.  She knew as well as anyone that he had been longing to go to one of those meetings for years.  Tucking a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear, she watched with amusement as Molly came out beaming fit to burst.

        "Oh I _knew _you'd get an invite Arthur dear!" Arthur laughed and gave her a kiss.  Ginny giggled and then looked across the street, where Fred and George were now looking at them all like they were mad.  Ginny motioned with her hands for them to come across, and they obliged.

        "What's all the ruckus?" Fred asked cheerfully, while George sniggered.

        "'Ruckus'," he laughed.  Ginny glared at him and he shut up.

        "Dad's going to Warlocks International," she informed him.  George's jaw dropped while Fred clapped his father on the back heartily.

        "Well done then!" Fred congratulated him.  

        "Thank you son," Arthur replied, looking for all the world like he had lost fifteen years.  

        "Will you be bringing back anything for uth then?" piped up a small voice near Ginny's leg.  She looked down in alarm and then smiled when she saw her niece Faye tugging on her jeans.  Ginny scooped her up and nodded with her head towards the tiny girl.

        "Why aren't Ron and Hermione keeping all four eyes on this one?  She got all of the twins' genes."  Fred and George looked rather pleased at this, but Molly snorted in disapproval.  

        "Well, I suppose Hermione's at the office again, and Ron…well, he never had his head entirely on his shoulders did he?" Molly remarked, making Ginny laugh.  

        "I guess," Ginny giggled, kissing Faye on the head.  "So you want Grandpa to bring you something back?" Faye nodded, her brown hair bobbing with her head as she did so.

        "Yeth pleath!" she said earnestly.  Arthur nodded, laughing.

        "Of course I'll bring you something back Faye.  What do you want?"  Faye took a minute to think this over, while Fred and George teased their father about being a 'warlock' ('What a fancy name!').

        "I want a neckith!" she exclaimed suddenly.  

        "A what, sorry?" Molly asked, confused due to the lisp.

        "A necklace," Ginny explained.  

        "Oh!  Well of course I can get you a necklace sweetheart," Arthur chuckled, patting Faye on the head lovingly.  

        "Yay!" Faye yelled as she squirmed out of Ginny's arms and ran down the street.  The adults laughed.  

        "She's an odd one," George commented as he straightened his hat.  

        "Quite the oddity," his twin agreed.

        "And the pot calls the kettle black…" Ginny said mockingly.

        "_Two_ pots sister darling, _two_ pots."

        "Well I want a flag," Molly interrupted seriously.  "A British flag, ours has quite lost its charm."  The entire ensemble looked up at the flag in question; it indeed didn't do much but hang limply off a pole on the roof.

        "All right Molly," Arthur granted.  He turned to Ginny, who was still looking at the pathetic flag.  "Do you want anything Gin dear?"  Ginny started.  

        "Me?"  She asked. 

        "No, the bottle of alcohol behind you," Fred replied without a hint of sarcasm.  Ginny threw a ball of paper at him, acquired from her notepad, and turned back to her father.  

        "I umm…well maybe…" she began cautiously.  

        "Well what?" Arthur asked, clutching the parchment in his hand while waiting for an answer.  

        "I should very much like a quill," she said quietly.  "A really nice, feathery deep colored quill. To write with."  Everyone knew Ginny's dreams of becoming an author, or at least a journalist, and were all on the wait to see when she'd pursue it.  Unbeknownst to them, she had already applied to five wizarding magazine/newspaper jobs- and had been rejected at every one.  

        "All right," Arthur complied, smiling at his youngest daughter.  She always had a drawn in air about her, like she didn't want anyone to know what was inside the pretty exterior.

        And she was pretty.  Having escaped the threat of 'long and lanky', Ginny instead was petite like her mum, but thinner.  Half the men in Oldham loved to watch her go from house to house, greeting people as was her daily routine, but none could capture her interest.  It wasn't for lack of trying, however.

        "Thank you Dad."  She pecked him on the cheek and left her brothers and parents chatting on the porch behind her as she sauntered down the front steps.  Sliding her sunglasses over her eyes, she walked down the road to see if anything interesting was going on.  

        She ignored a couple catcalls from the teenage boys on vacation from school ('Ben Finnegan and Doyle Thomas, I'll tell your parents see if I don't!' 'Oh, but miss-!') and stopped at her favorite shop: _Flourish and Blotts, Extended.  Breathing in happily, she pushed open the door and grinned at the sound of the tinkling bell._

--

        Every mirror in his house was cracked.  No, not cracked- more like smashed into tiny pieces that wouldn't resemble a mirror even if you bothered to put the pieces together again.  It all disgusted him.  The masses of fur were all over his arms, his legs…and other places if you want to get specific.  He growled and sat in a chair by the fireplace; for some reason, his manor was always frigid cold.  Snow didn't fall gently outside his windows, but it pelted down like it was its mission to keep the ground frosty white at all costs.  He tried to sigh, but it came out like a rusty snarl.  Utterly enraged, he picked up a vase nearby and threw it at the wall with all his strength; when you're a Beast, that's quite a lot of strength.  However, to his further fury, it stopped right before hitting the wall.  

        "Now Mr. Malfoy, you know that smashing vases won't help a whit," the cheery voice chided him.  Draco growled.

        "I don't bloody care woman, how many times do I have to tell you?" A stout gray haired ghost floated into the room clicking her tongue in irritation.  

        "Let's not get frustrated," she said wearily, floating the vase back to its proper place.

        "Ghosts shouldn't be able to do magic," he muttered resentfully.  The ghost laughed.

        "And you should?  Come now, you can't say you didn't _deserve_ what the old witch did to you!" Draco roared with anger and tried to rush his giggling servant, passing ineffectually through her.  He shivered.

        "Damn you," he exclaimed, settling back down into his chair.  

        "And you," she replied, not worried at all.  "Now, I decided to do your laundry so that's in the laundry room.  The books have been sorted yet again, and the cook wants to know what you want for dinner."  No response.  "I need an answer Mr. Malfoy!"  Draco put his head in his paws miserably.

        "Tell him to crème brulee his ass," he mumbled.  

        "Lobster it is sir," the ghost replied smartly, drifting out of the room and having the door slam behind her in the gust of wind.  Draco looked out the window at the howling wind and snow and clenched his fists.  _That damned hag!_

--

        "I'll miss you," Ginny said, kissing her father on the cheek.  Molly dabbed at her eyes.

        "Two months really is much too long," she said sadly, receiving a kiss from her departing husband.  He winked merrily at her, handing her a handkerchief.  

        "It'll be over before you know it…Ron, George, is it ready to go?"  George ducked his head out of the now crumbling at the seams green Ford Anglia (bought after the disappearance of the turquoise Ford Anglia back in Ginny's school days) and nodded.

        "Yessir!"  Ron ducked his own head out and grinned roguishly.

        "Gods Dad, you pack like 'Mione!"  Arthur laughed and opened the car door.  

        "I doubt it- your Hermione is very sensible.  Maybe I pack like Ginny here…"  Ginny blushed and swatted him away.  

        "Go to your convention then," she urged.  Arthur smiled at her as he closed the door and rolled down the window.

        "Remember, I'm coming back with that quill!"  Ginny grinned and nodded.

        "Yessir!" she replied, imitating George.  

        "Neckith, neckith!" Faye cried out while biting her father's (Ron's that is) hand.  Ron grimaced and wiped it clean of the spittle.  

        "Urgh Faye…Dad, I reckon if you don't come back with that necklace she'll tear the house down!" he warned.  Arthur smiled.

        "I'll bring her a pretty necklace, don't you worry love," he said to Faye.  She smiled happily and waved her pudgy hand at him.

        "Bye bye Grandpa!" she screamed, making everyone wince.  

        "Goodbye Arthur!" Molly shrieked after the departing car.  Arthur's hand stuck out the sunroof and waved as he drove down the main road.  Ginny watched it go, shading her eyes from the sun, and sighed when the dust proved too powerful to see through.  

        "At least he's getting out of this stupid town," she muttered, low enough so that no one could hear her.  

        "I do hope he'll have a good time," Molly sniffed, putting away the handkerchief.  

**--2 MONTHS LATER—**

        The snow showed no sign of letting up as Arthur plowed through it with the Anglia.  "Why doesn't this thing have four peeled knive?" he exclaimed angrily, trying to see through the overwhelming white swirls of snow, thinking of the Muggle 'four wheeled drive'.  It was the oddest thing- snow in late August.  "How far away from home am I anyway?" he said to himself, frowning.  The area he was in wasn't on the map he held, which mildly worried him.  Different dimensions were not common in the wizarding world, and neither were Dark areas made Unplottable by Death Eaters.  

        Suddenly through the snow he saw a patch of black.  Relived to the very bones, Arthur stopped the car and strained his eyes to see.  In one sweep of the wind, the snow was out of his way for a good two seconds: enough to see.

        There stood a manor perched prominently on a hill; it glared at the small car forebodingly.  It was dark and dank, with broken windows and almost hidden due to the depths of snow that had piled up on all sides.  Arthur, trying to ignore the state of the place, pulled over his car and proceeded to try and work his way towards the front door.

--

"What is that little man trying to do?" Draco muttered, pulling a curtain back with a single claw.

**(Update in the Process)**


	2. The Life

**_A/N: _**_Thank you so much for the kind reviews!  I loved reading them all- a special thanks to the reviewer (sorry I didn't look up your name!), who pointed out two things for me to look at.  My e-mail will be on my profile soon enough, but right now, I'll answer your comments here:_

_1) I know they live in Ottery St. Catchpole- I actually almost made it Ottery St. Catchpole, but decided against it.  I will explain how they came to live near __Norfolk__ in this chapter.  I meant to do it last chapter, sorry!_

_2) I completely understand how you want me to "flesh it out".  I just was desperate to get these ideas out that I rushed it slightly.  I apologize for that, but I promise they'll be longer now!_

_        OK, I lied, this one is slightly shorter, but the story will slow down from here on in. Hope you enjoy._

_        Onward._

--

        It wasn't just the dismal appearance of the house that made Arthur wary: the fact that the snow was more furious than ever around it made him suspicious.  However at that point, he really had no other alternative besides sit in the car and freeze to death- he had already tried to Apparate.  It didn't work.  A fizzy feeling went through him like Muggle electricity, making him frown and jump at the same time.  "I have to get an owl," he said to himself while battling against the raging wind to get to the door.  "_Why_ didn't I bring one?" All of a sudden, he found himself standing outside the door.

        Imposingly black and sturdy, it seemed to look down at aged Arthur Weasley and laugh.  He sighed wearily and started to turn back to the car, thinking that the old house must be abandoned, and froze when he heard it creak open.  The awful sound it let out gave him the impression that they had not been opened for years.  Too tired to think of the consequences, he trudged back and walked through.

        A door as big as the gates was his next obstacle; huge and polished wood as tall as Hagrid stood before him.  He knocked with a sigh and didn't seem surprised when it opened of its own accord.  Exhausted from two days of driving and cold, he collapsed on the marble floor in a heap.

        Draco came out silently from behind his heavy velvet curtain, looking down at the man on the floor before him.  His red hair glared at him through the snow patches on his head, making flashbacks of a Ron Weasley punching him in his first year at school and growling at him throughout.  Scowling, Draco turned to leave- however his ghost servant had other thoughts.  

        "Now Mr. Malfoy, what do we do with guests?" she scolded him, smiling at his discomfort when he walked through her accidentally. 

        "Well as we've never had a guest," Draco mused mockingly, "I say we throw him back where he came from."  The ghost's face went very stern. 

        "I won't abide by cruelty Mr. Malfoy.  And besides, you very well know you'll never get back to the way you were if you throw this poor man out."  Draco glared at her through tufts of fur, but sighed in defeat. 

        "Damn you Matilda," he muttered, walking back over to Arthur.  

        "It's Mrs. Potts to you," she replied cheekily, tutting and floating up the stairs.  Draco scowled at her back and picked up the man roughly, slinging him over his back.  

        "The one advantage of beasthood," he said grimly, referring to his strength.  He looked at the load on his back.  "Well, it doesn't take much to lift a wiry bloke like you now does it?" 

        "Mr. Malfoy!" came the reprimanding tone. 

        "Oh sod off!" he yelled back, started to ascend the staircase.  "Stupid witch," he mumbled as he neared the summit of the steps.  He stopped and looked around.  "It's been awhile since anyone came here," he said to the exhausted form of Arthur Weasley.  "Don't know why you bothered."  Pushing open the door of a vacant room, he placed him down softly on the king sized bed; it was clothed in a deep red curtain and the room was decorated splendidly with dressers and flowers.  No one could accuse Draco Malfoy (had they known he was still alive) of having bad taste.  

        Looking back briefly at the sleeping man, Draco closed the door quietly (with difficulty due to his claws) and turned to face a smug looking Matilda Potts.

        "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

--

        "Whereth Grandpa?" Faye shrieked, making the adults in the room wince.  Hermione, who had taken a day off to greet Mr. Weasley, pulled Faye onto her lap and held her close.

        "I don't know honey, but he'll be home soon I promise."  Faye pouted and dug her face into her mother's sweater. 

        "He faid he'd met a mecklat," she said muffled.  Ron, who had also come to join the family, raised a red eyebrow in amusement, taking Faye's head out of her mother.

        "Mind repeating that darling?" Faye glared at her father defiantly. 

        "He thaid he's get me a necklace!"  Ron and Hermione exchanged confused glances behind her back.  Ginny sighed and picked Faye up.

        "I'm sure he'll bring one," Ginny consoled her niece fondly.  Faye however, had nestled into Ginny and was fast asleep.  Smiling, Ginny kissed the top of her head and handed her over to Ron, who rolled his eyes and grinned stupidly like a proud father does.  

        "Any minute now…" Molly breathed, making the glass of the window fog up temporarily.  

        But many minutes went by and the sun stained the sky pink, and Arthur had still not come.

--

        "I hate this," Draco growled, tapping the arm of his chair impatiently.  Morning had come and gone, but it made no difference to the people trapped in the ever darkened manor.  "He could be up there doing God knows what and we're not up there to make sure he doesn't do it."

        "He's perfectly harmless!" Matilda argued while dusting a chair.  "You see the condition he was in last night!"

        "_Was _in," Draco replied grumpily.  Matilda just sighed and continued with her work.

        "Sir!" Draco jumped in surprise and came down with a large 'THUMP' which rattled the room.  He looked up dangerously at the little boy ghost in front of him.  

        "What do you want Henry?" he asked through clenched fangs.  Henry looked terrified, but at the last second he seemed to realize that Draco couldn't possibly hurt a ghost and pulled himself together.

        "Please sir, but the man upstairs has woken up and had some of the coffee you told me to put out."  Draco wished he could have stopped Henry from saying that last bit- Matilda was looking at him with a triumphant air.

        "Don't get any ideas Potts," he warned before turning back to the boy.  "He's not disrupting anything?" Henry shook his head vigorously.  

        "On the contrary sir, he's just reading the paper and drinking his coffee peacefully." Henry paused. "If I may ask sir, why is his hair such an odd color?" Draco snorted and turned his brooding back back on the dire.

        "Maybe he's a Weasley," he replied somewhat sarcastically.  The boy tilted his head, confused.

        "A what?" 

        "Never you mind," Matilda interrupted, shooing Henry away with her duster.  "Go play with Camille."  Henry scampered off, only too happy to obey.  Draco sighed and put his head in his paws.

        "What did I do to deserve a house of ghosts?" he moaned.  Matilda gave a short, no-nonsense laugh.

        "Do you really want to know, or shall I just continue dusting?" Draco sighed again in exasperation.  

        "Neither. Just-just leave me in peace."  Matilda gave him a strange look, but put down her translucent duster and drifted away.  Draco looked into the flickering flames, feeling the warmth but not able to go near- if a spark landed on his fur it could end in complete disaster.  His eyes fell soft with pain and frustration…if _only _that witch hadn't come knocking on his door…

--

        Arthur Weasley had woken up amidst splendor he wasn't accustomed to.  He had been laid down in a bed of the finest cotton, draped with curtains the color of pomegranates he never tasted.  Reaching his shaky hand out to feel the curtains, he was shocked to find they were real- he had been sure it was a dream.  

        The aroma of freshly made coffee and toast soon came to his attention.  His sense of smell was rewarded when he saw the silver platter at the trunk at the foot of his bed, an eerie see through blue.  As soon as he touched it, it became solid to the touch and patterned prettily with flowers.  He poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it tentatively, wondering if it was poison or something equally dangerous.    To his surprise, again, it was delicious and slipped down his throat like honey- in fact, it had a slight honey taste to it.  

        Arthur enjoyed his coffee and morning paper (delivered with the coffee and toast) immensely, although in the back of his mind he couldn't help but worry about his family.  There wasn't an owl to be seen, and even if he could find one Arthur didn't think it could fly through the raging snowstorm outside the mansion he was now in.  He had no idea where he was or who lived there even, so it wasn't like he could find his way back.  And, as previously mentioned, he was unable to Apparate.       

        After breakfast, he fell asleep again as he was completely exhausted from his journey.  When he woke up, a fluffy towel had been placed next to his bed with the embroidered initials plucked out by someone with a very sharp needle.  Too grateful to consider the consequences, he took this as an invitation to stay a while longer and took a long, luxiourious shower.  

        "This is the life," he sighed as he looked out the window afterwards, onto the snow covered acres that unfolded before his tired brown eyes.

--

        "You're getting the hang of this being nice thing," Matilda teased as she stitched a ghostly pillow.  Draco didn't respond; he was busy trying to flip the pages of a book, but was having some difficulties.  They were sitting in Draco's prized library, the one he had compiled of the books he hoarded from all corners of the earth.  There were old tribal inscriptions, diaries, scribblings, old recipes, ancient curses, anything you could think of.  Picking up a quill and dabbing it in a bottle of ink, Draco attempted to write something on a piece of parchment.  Much to his anger, the ink came out blotchy and uneven as opposed to his previous perfect script.

        "Bloody _hell_!" He bellowed suddenly, throwing the ink bottle against the window.  Instead of cracking the window, the bottle shattered, leaving a trail of black ink slowly inching its way towards the red carpet.  Matilda gasped and wafted quickly over to the mess.  Draco didn't look a bit sorry or embarrassed.  "Oh calm down woman, just do a spell."

        "I refuse," she replied primly, sitting back down with her stitching.  Draco rolled his eyes.

        "Fine, don't."  He walked over to a large bookcase and ran his claw along the sides of the spines- it created a large rip linking the books together by the torn parts.  He smirked with satisfaction.  

        "Oh Mr. Malfoy," Matilda sighed, sounding hopeless.  Draco didn't say anything: just stood by his window and watched the freezing snow build up before his eyes.

--

        "That's it," Hermione said abruptly at the breakfast table, causing everyone to jump.

        "Heavens alive Hermione, what is it?" Molly asked, clutching her hand to her heart.  Ginny looked at Hermione and saw the determined glint in her eye people at Hogwarts were so scared of in their school days.

        "We have to contact the Ministry.  I'll get a few people on the case- I've had owls from other International Warlock Convention participants, and they were home ages ago."  Ron nodded in agreement with his wife, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

        "She's right Mum," he said to Molly, who sighed and shrugged.

        "Whatever you can do to get him back," she replied simply.  Hermione and Ron got up simultaneously, Hermione taking Faye gently from Ginny's arms.

        "Great breakfast Mum," Ron put in before they left, closing the door loudly behind them.  Molly sighed and got up with her wand in hand, ready to do the dishes.  Ginny watched her silently, toying with her necklace in the uncomfortable silence.  Her mother looked older than Ginny liked to realize, elbows up in dish soap and wrinkles forming along her brow.  She bit her lip, and then got up from the table and went to help her.  Picking up a dish, she took out her wand and cleared it with some soap from her wand.  Molly looked up at her and nodded gratefully.  Ginny smiled back, although worried about her father.

        One day went by, and no one heard from him.

--


	3. IMPORTANT NOTE

**NOT A CHAPTER**

I have decided to redo this story.  Chapter Two will remain exactly the same, Chapter One will be dramatically altered.  I will reload this story, so watch out for it!

-The Authoress, Saffron-


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